


An unasked...

by R4XT3RMINAT0R



Category: Original Work
Genre: A 20th Century Tale, Action Dueling, Drabble Collection, Gen, Light Angst, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22373263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R4XT3RMINAT0R/pseuds/R4XT3RMINAT0R
Summary: “… You’re hopeless. And that’s a human thing, Lala.”“We’re all hopeless, in a way or another.”Eulalia and Gróa





	1. An unasked curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “… You’re hopeless. And that’s a human thing, Lala.”   
> “We’re all hopeless, in a way or another.”
> 
> Eulalia and Gróa

“Bill?”  
“Yeah, Lala?”  
“Will I ever be able to die?”  
Billy stopped in their tracks, feathers slightly ruffling upon hearing the woman’s tone. It lacked the usual fiery rage that shook anyone within vicinity from the inside out; in fact, if they had to use an adjective, Billy would’ve thought of Eulalia as… _defeated_. They turned, placing their helmet on the motorbike’s seat, and crouched down to be on the same eye level as the other New God. Their owlish, black eyes carefully peered into her distant, vacant amber - wondering if this was just another one of her moods, or if she was genuinely contemplating such a luxury.  
Billy scoffed slightly, a birdlike chirp following. Then, they reached out, and gloved fingers carefully brushed to the side bloodied curly strands that ungracefully framed Eulalia’s face. The fact she did not wince at the gentle affection made it just more clear that she was not in a good place, mentally. On one hand, they were concerned. On the other, all they could do was sigh.  
“… Lala, you know the answer, don’t you?”  
Eulalia whined childishly in response, curling up inside Billy’s leather jacket. Her whole face was decorated with splatters of blood, her make-up entirely ruined and gone God-knows-where - dirt and more crimson stains were scattered across her skin. The silver cross slung around her neck was tinted a bright cherry red. Billy didn’t know what happened prior to their arrival, but they knew it wasn’t anything good. At this point, however, they were aware that concern was useless. Eulalia was _bound_ to be like this - and thus, she would not stop being careless no matter the lectures. They were mindful enough to understand that, and to let her act however she so pleased.  
They sprung back up, only to sit right beside their companion one moment after. A feathered arm draped across the singer’s shoulders, and automatically, she melted into the comfortable warmth. Had they not known that massive, curly black forest was her hair, they would’ve been worried for their poor arm. After all, it was so easy to get lost in the kinks and knots - similarly, it was just as simple to fall victim to the alluring danger of the jungle. That was how bonding with Eulalia worked; at least, they knew only that much.  
“… ’m tired, Bill.”  
“I know.”  
Her brows scrunched. “I’m _tired_. I want this to end.”  
“…”  
“Don’t you ever wish that too? Am I the only fool wantin’ to live a good life?”  
“You’re not a fool for wanting happiness, Lala.”  
“Then what am I? Why the _fuck_ does this make me suffer?”  
Billy placed their head against Eulalia’s, and as if on cue, a whimper, then a sniff. Before she knew it, Eulalia was crying; the taste of blood stinging when mixed with salty, bitter tears. Were her hands not half broken, she would’ve brought them to her face to wipe the mess away.  
“… You’re hopeless. And that’s a human thing, Lala.” a pause, “We’re all hopeless, in a way or another.”  
Silence, for a minute, a few beats more. Eulalia kept crying, although her tears held no emotion - they were tears filled with desperate nothingness. Billy patted her shoulder gently, then they began running their fingers across her hair, in hopes that would soothe her ache, even if temporarily.

“It’s unjust… I know. But that’s the only way we can survive.”  
“… We’re _monsters_ , Gróa.” they slightly flinched when she said their real name. Billy - Gróa - would’ve smiled, if they could. “We’re parasites that feed on some poor bastards that don’t want to die, that don’t - don’t _deserve_ it.”  
“We are. But we didn’t _ask_ to be, did we?”  
It wasn’t comforting in the slightest, Billy knew. But at the same time, how were they supposed - of all creatures in existence - to be able to have that? The New Gods were as cursed as humanity itself. Billy was just as rotten as Eulalia, even if in different ways.

_All we can do is bring down with us the curse weighing on our backs._

After silence, came a gentle rustling. Eulalia’s eyes blinked, and turned to observe what Billy was doing. Out of one of their pants’ pockets, they produced paper tissues - and without a single objection, they began cleaning the blood on Eulalia’s face. The way she so helplessly let herself be babied was significantly representative; slowly, but surely, she would pick up again her fiesty attitude. Just give it a few hours, Billy thought.  
“How are you feeling now?” the avian creature asked.  
“Like _shit_. My hands fuckin’ hurt.” Eulalia answered, her soft, strained voice completely mismatching her words. “I can walk, though. I can… think…”  
“Does your head hurt?”  
“Yeah,” she huffed, “Billy, I know I said I feel like shit, but I’m fine. More or less. I need… rest.”  
The other New God emitted an amused, chirped chortle. “I’ll happily point out, Lala, that snorting cocaine isn’t going to help you rest.” her expression and shoulders stiffened, as if she were caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Ah, so you _were_ planning on it.”  
“How did you—”  
“I didn’t know. Your expression told me.”  
As Eulalia threw a small tantrum befitting of a child, Billy laughed.


	2. An unasked burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please have your ID at hand,  
> and your member card. We need it  
> so that we can give you an efficient transfusion  
> and a small stack of bags for emergencies."
> 
> Adrienne Lafayette

_You shouldn’t talk with that girl more than necessary. Haven’t you heard the rumors?  
Rumors? We’re not in high school anymore, you know…_  
Adrienne hurriedly scuttled through the corridor, clutching her books tightly to her chest, holding in her breath - despite the fact that it made it more difficult to walk. Her chest hurt, just a little bit. Her feet did, too. Maybe she should’ve bought sneakers in the future, more fit for the pace she picked up when she walked around campus - maybe she should’ve bought some orthopedic socks, or maybe - maybe -  
_Yeah, but, you know… Those bandages? Are suspicious with a capital S.  
And the fact she never smiles, never opens her mouth that much, it’s just weird. The most obvious sign, though! Her eyes! Who walks around with half-red eyes like that? Why even bother coming to university?!  
If I were one of _them _, I wouldn’t even bother trying to fit in. Really, I’d just–_

Adrienne sucked in her breath even more, if it was even possible. By now, her hurried walk had turned into a light run. She was done with classes. She just had to get out, get out, _get out_ \- people never actually said anything when she passed by - but she could _read_ their thoughts without even needing superpowers. That silence. All that judgment.  
Trust me, if I could, I’d hole up inside my apartment all day, too.  
After a few more meters, and she was out of the large building. Now, to face, was the even bigger city. By comparison, the hustling crowd was no doubt worse to navigate in; but there were more pros to it than there were to walking through the halls of a place where everybody knows everybody, even if just by glance. When you’re just another citizen, and not a Juilliard university student, you’re that. You mix in. _Vampire_ or not. The traffic, the squeaking soles, the freezing winter air were and felt the same for everyone.  
Adrienne closed her eyes, tightly, just to _forget_ and push out of her mind the bickering voices, if for a few minutes. She comfortably tucked her face into her big, warm scarf, and temporarily forgot what panic felt like.  
Then it grabbed her throat once again the moment she stepped into the bus. Curl in, hide yourself into a corner, and pray for the better. She had her earphones in her ears just to make sure nobody would talk to her. It didn’t _always_ work, but most of the time, it helped her feel somewhat protected. Isolated.  
… A feeling she wished wasn’t so _familiar_ and comfortable.

Compared to her first few years, her schedules were much less messy and panicked - though, despite having grown used to the pains and efforts of having to go here and there for various different errands, she still felt weird whenever she had a clinic appointment.  
… _Weird_ didn’t cut it.  
Her large, doe-like gaze nervously stared down at the entrance doors. The transparent glass made it easy for her to notice that there were, as usual, many people waiting in the typical queue. After mentally crossing her fingers, hoping to get out as soon as possible, Adrienne stepped in. Her eyes quickly skimmed over the papers taped on the glass doors, which recited a text she, at that point, could write down without needing to proof-read it:

> _BLOOD TRANSFUSION  
>  SCHEDULES  
>  _
> 
> _6:00 AM - 1:30 PM  
>  3:30 PM - 9:00 PM  
>  11:30 PM - 4:00 AM_
> 
> _Please have your ID at hand,  
>  and your member card. We need it  
>  so that we can give you an efficient transfusion  
>  and a small stack of bags for emergencies._

She hated it.  
She hated it so much, she felt her eyes tear up.  
After picking off her number ticket, she quietly sat down in an empty seat, careful not to bump into the person sitting next to her. Her azure-crimson eyes quickly skimmed over the crowd that kept the clinic warm. It was rare to see someone older than their forties in this place. Most of the people that visited the clinic were her age, if not younger. She could see some kids being accompanied by their parents, and a felt a shudder trickle down her spine. In another wing of the relatively small building, she could hear screams and loud clatters. Her brows furrowed slightly, and instinctively, without realizing, she brushed her fingers against the bandages that safely covered her shame. A shame that cursed her. A shame that brought her to become a regular patient of this cursed place.  
The stomach pains that had been afflicting her since the other day weren’t helping in the slightest. (Her diet was scarce at best in itself, but…) Adrienne softly groaned, frustrated. Sad. Scared.  
When was this going to reveal itself to be all just a bad dream…?


	3. An unasked collaboration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have no way out of this. You know very well what it feels like to be left all alone…”  
> In your little world of oozing petrol and stinking gas and rotten dirt and rusty crust and reddening metal -  
> "Don't you?"
> 
> Eulalia and Tai

The moment Eulalia heard that familiar clacking of heels, her brows instinctively furrowed. A few unfiltered curses immediately escaped her - slipped out of her mouth without much thought. Being familiar with sounds of any kind was part of her skillset: after all, she was a musician. Having a careful ear as she did could be considered a blessing of sorts. But this particular prattle - it was no common kind.  
Not with that metallic whirring that constantly accompanied it. Eulalia loathed it - both the sound and her own abilities, and, for a moment, she wished she could disappear out of thin air. Dread immediately filled her chest and veins. Maybe it was supposed to be that way; some presences are bound to be hated, not welcomed, after all. (That was the logic her brain was desperatedly trying to hang on to.)  
At some point, the static noise became unbearably, unignorably loud. And so, with a groan, she crushed the cigarette she had been smoking against the dirty marble windowsill; only then she decided to turn around. From mere annoyance, her expression turned into one of vexation.  
Almost comically, Tai was hunched over herself, those four dangly arms of hers ungracefully clutched against her elongated waist. Though she had no shame in presenting herself in such a compromisingly embarrassing posture, Eulalia could tell what Tai was thinking just by observing her tapping foot.  
‘It wasn’t her fault most buildings had ceilings that low!’, Eulalia mentally recited, trying - but not that genuinely - to get into Tai’s shoes.

“… And why the fuck are _you_ here?”  
The insectoid human’s neck turned, and creaking followed it. It made Eulalia visibly cringe. Tai chuckled at the observation, a chortle coming through as a terrible, cacophonous clattering of metals, rather than actual laughter.  
Eulalia wasn’t scared: there was no reason to be. After all, they were of the same kind, monsters of the same nature with the very same carnivorous instincts and disgusting nature.  
“ _Why_ am I here?” Tai parroted, taking a wobbly step forward. (Her position didn’t exactly make it easy to move.) “Oh, dear, don’t tell me the drugs have drilled even bigger holes into that pretty, rotten brain of yours.”  
Eulalia crossed her arms over her chest. “Keep your witty comments to yourself,” she scoffed, “Just tell me what you want.”  
Tai paused for a moment, as if reflecting on her words. Then:  
“You–” the mangled woman’s words came to a halt, only to pick up an entirely different path right after, “–It’s not about what _I_ want, darling. Don’t you remember? We agreed to some _terms_ , a few months ago.”  
It took a few seconds - Eulalia squinted, and pensively, her mouth opened, only to close again. Brows furrowed in thought, then relaxed once a sardonic smile curled the singer’s lips. Her tone was one of amusement and slight disbelief. “… Are you telling me… you… took that _“promise”_ fuckin’ seriously?”  
Crackling as they moved, Tai’s lower arms mimicked Eulalia’s defensive stance. A promise is a promise, Tai wanted to reply, however she knew very well that pulling such response would not work on the likes of Eulalia. Her expression didn’t let it through - but it was, at times, frustrating to deal with her. Due to her hot-headed nature, Eulalia required Tai to work around her words, because Eulalia was no human, nor was she just a common monster. Better than anyone else, Tai knew that she had to serve things in a way that would appetize the wolfish woman; pick the right spices, plate it nicely, hold the dish out with a fun little spin.  
Even for such a simple thing, she’d have to beat around the bush. But that was exactly why she bothered talking with her - humans aren’t so fun. They’re too easy, Tai believed. Picking on Esha or on Eulalia was always more of a challenge.  
Tai took another step forward, causing the smaller New God to force her head up the tiniest bit.  
“You could say that. After all, you rarely do people any favors,” Tai said, “And you especially tend to be _unkind_ to me, for some unknown reason – so…” she let her words hang, because Eulalia understood what she meant. (And, on a side note,Tai knew _very well_ why Eulalia didn’t like her. But did she care? Not really. Not at all!)

Before letting Eulalia answer, Tai abruptly turned around, staggering over Eulalia’s tattered and torn-out couch. The latter didn’t protest, but Tai could feel a malevolent gaze burn into her back as she made herself at home.  
Definitely not as comfortable as the ones she usually sat on, she thought, however no complaint was stifled. She crossed her legs with a lout KRRCK, and in an (in Eulalia’s opinion) annoyingly well-mannered fashion, she placed all her four arms over one knee. Patiently waiting for an answer like an educated, good little student, all while staring right at Eulalia. Usually, Tai’s neverblinking, pink, wide eyes struck fear in a common bastard’s heart. Obviously, though, Eulalia was largely unaffected.  
She was bemused, even. If not straight-up _irritated_.  
Eulalia huffed, nose crinkling and jaw muscles growing taut as she leaned against the window.  
Instead of answering, she lighted another cigarette she took from the nearby packet, and turned around to observe the scarce scenery that she had by now grown used to. It wasn’t anything worth relaxing for, but it eased her nerves far more than that _praying mantis freak_.

Tai sighed, then shook her head softly. Her body remained statue-still, save for one arm, which reached to take out something out of her jacket. A small sticky note was produced between her sharp index and thumb; minuscule pupils skimming over to read its brief content.  
“Call me fussy, darlin–”  
“ _Don’t call me that_.”  
“– _Eulalia_ ,” for once, a slight hiss of annoyance seeped into Tai’s voice, “But since I worked my _ass_ off to fulfill my part of our little deal… I would appreciate it if you did the same.”

With that, Tai stood up again, the couch emitting a low squeak of relief as she did. Her talons crinkled the sticky note up into a paper pebble, then threw it a few centimeters from Eulalia, with a heavy _thunk_ signaling its successful landing.  
“You know, _Sehnsucht_ …” the insectoid muttered, her speech becoming more grating as the seconds passed, more rusty and less human than they already were - hearing that name (her true name), Eulalia shuddered. “You can hate me and the others all you want, but you can’t escape the reality that we are _colleagues_. We work the same job, deal with the same clients, and bear the same burdens and aches as you do,” she paused. The familiar clacking of heels dragged itself over to the apartment’s entrance.  
A shrill giggle resounded through the room.  
“… This isn’t a competition, even if it might feel like one. And you have _no way out of this_. You know very well what it feels like to be left all alone…”  
_In your little world of oozing petrol and stinking gas and rotten dirt and rusty crust and reddening metal -_  
Eulalia flinched, and her grip around the cigarette tightened. Teeth gritted, quietly, but just about loud enough for Tai to catch. Sharp fingers tapped against the wooden door.  
“… Don’t you?”  
Her arms flexed, and Eulalia gripped the still-lit cigarette in her fist. It hurt, but not nearly as the damned truths and facts that they would keep smashing over her head, time and time again.  
Eulalia seethed.  
“–Get the _fuck_ out of my apartment.”

The presence of Power and Violence lingered in the room even after she’d stepped out. When it didn’t look for bloodshed, it left behind a trail of nausea. Eulalia barely managed to keep herself standing.  
Fuck. Fuck. _FUCK!_  
She was never going to get a break. Then why was she still holding onto the feeble hope that she could continue to live as an human with nothing to concern herself with, if not staying alive? It’s not the same when you’re forced to _eat people_ to _live another day_. It’s not the same when you can’t get ahold of yourself the moment someone smells like a prey. Being a predator is a curse. Having jaws strong enough to tear and rip is painful. It’s painful, disgusting, inhuman, it’s–  
Her eyes squeezed shut, and before she could start dragging her fingernails across her skin to tear and scavenge for some sort of relief, her nostrils picked up an familiar scent. One which immediately prompted her stomach to let out a loud, ravenous groan of protest.

Eulalia turned around, and a bloodied paper bag laid on the floor, right where Tai had earlier thrown the crumpled sticky note. It left a crimson stain underneath it, she noticed when she picked it up; and it dripped with still-fresh blood. She _knew_ what was inside. On one hand, Eulalia wanted to hurl. On the other, her maws began salivating in thrilled anticipation.  
Distaste persisted, however, as soon as she caught the reminder written on the bag.

> _“Heart and brains complement  
>  each other, don’t they?_
> 
> _You made a promise!♡  
>  -Tai”_


	4. An unasked kinship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why did their encounters always end up like this?  
> Why had they always have to be such a fucking waste of time?"
> 
> Esha and Tai

Munched bones fell on the ground as a subtle scratch alarmed her senses - like fingernails on a blackboard. Esha’s hands were dirty with white dust; and uncharacteristically of her, in that moment, the thought of cleaning herself came as secondary. What required attention was something else, by comparison far more urgent. Esha did not need eyes to recognize the distorted shape that had obscured blocked the already weak moonlight’s rays. A huffed cloud was exhaled, and it dissipated within seconds. Arms flexed, ready to strike. The other outheighted her, that was for sure - however, they both knew extremely well that height did not equal victory.   
With a _zing!_ , a slash cut across - and only barely did Esha avoid it with a hop, stepping on and crushing the bones sparsed through the floor in the process. The crackling sounds sent an electrifying sensation through her body, and just like that – the game was _on_.  
Out of nowhere, without reason, a ritual, a symbol of their rivalry, call it what you will. It didn’t change that out of all of them, _they_ ’d be the ones with the habit to spar. It was funny, in a way: but not surprising. After all, she and Tai were on entirely different planets: _not in the literal way, unfortunately_ , Esha thought as her shoes squeaked whilst she slid backwards to avoid, swiftly twisting her bust, another dangerous strike.   
Tai had long dangling limbs: easy to break, but extremely difficult to catch. Her speed was unmatched by the others, and so far, only Esha had proved herself to be on par with it. Was it necessary for them to fight like gladiators put in the pillory? No, not really. There was no crowd to shun or support them, and even if there was, their fight would be (because it is) very poor entertainment.  
There was no explanation to why they did it - except _petty hatred_ , perhaps, that came from nothing more if a matter of differences. The mantis’ clawed arm extended forward, hoping to scratch Esha’s vertebrae - and though the attempt was unsuccessful, it did manage to lay a single, minuscule scratch against that pearly white skull, right on her cheekbone. Flexibility was a gift the goat girl had been graced with since ‘birth’, and she would make use of it by gracefully avoiding Tai’s successive kick (a poorly executed endeavor, supposed to sweep her off her feet).  
After distracting Tai by executing an elegant backflip, Esha attempted to dash in-between Tai’s legs - but one clawed hand reached out, curling around one of the skull’s obsidian horns with unexpected ease. The grasp and consequential pull that tilted her head caused the New God to emit something of a frustrated grunt, even if she did not struggle to break free of it right away.   
The hand dragged Esha upwards, far above the ground. Her feet dangled in the air, hands trying to pick and pull apart at the talons keeping her horn in a vicious grip; and after a beat or two of silence, Tai brought her to eye-level with her.  
Despite all these years they had known each other, she still couldn’t tell whether or not Esha actually could _see_.

Tai opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted by Esha swinging her weight forward, then backwards: before Tai could react, Esha chucked herself against Tai’s face, her feet extended in front of her so that her loafers’ soles would manage to step and scratch Tai’s head.  
A loud agonized shriek followed Esha’s attack. Tai curled onto herself, and let go of the other’s head, hands covering her eyes as if that would repair the damage done.   
Ungracefully, Esha landed not far behind, making sure to stay away from that particularly sneaky extra pair of arms - and unable to repress her fussy nature, she dusted off the horn that had been previously kept hostage. Another huff, this time louder and tired, resounded across the scenario; though it was not nearly imposing enough to muffle the static wailing that Tai was emitting. Eventually, the screeches died down, only to be replaced by raw, industrial wheezing: the sound of rusty metal plates rubbing off of eachother, creaking and squeaking. Fulcrum of an earthquake that causes cogs and screws to spill onto an old, unused machinery’s large fissures.  
And the deeper the pieces fall, the fainter the tinkling becomes.

Talons tapping against hard surface perfectly mimicked that clinking.  
When Tai turned around again, her stance unstable and wobbly, Esha was met by an hunched monstrosity, which did not stand as high and mighty as it did prior to her kick. It was panting, open-mouthed, rust flakes flying out of her maws along with drool and droplets of blood. Tai was evidently injured (scratched across her face and her eyes), and the acute pain had apparently caused her mandibles to instinctively open up, their razor-sharp tips shimmering with saliva.  
Had she any lashes to spare, Tai’s eyes would’ve been twitching. Considering it wasn’t the case, the sensation of pain coursing through her body showed through her shifty, laggy movements, her body vibrating in an attempt to shake the adrenaline off.   
Esha’s defensive stance gradually grew relaxed. A few minutes or so, and she was back to her pristine, elegant posture; arms crossed over her chest, and legs stuck to one another.  
The smell of crushed bones mixed with that of putrid marrow was strong enough that it would’ve made a common bastard hurl.  
Esha began cautiously approaching Tai after a few beats of silence, stopping the exact moment the latter lost balance and then fell against the concrete, almost pathetically, with a weak thump. Esha’s hearing caught a few sharp, snapping sounds - concerning herself not of their sources.  
After all, hurting this bastard rarely was effective. Hell, what she had done to her minutes ago was not nearly enough to _actually_ hurt her.  
The arm guised as a praying mantis’ choice weapon - its own deadly razor - began morphing and distorting, hard skin curling and crumpling like paper on fire as the spines retracted into its shell. Tai’s face began undergoing a similar procedure: her mandibles started shrivelling into wrinkled, rotten pieces of flesh (?), and the blood from her wounds mixed within the transmutation’s process - by then, the panting had stopped, leaving in its place an eerily comfortable silence.  
Esha took another step forward.  
This time, with an unpredictable and audible snap, pink-dusted talons gripped around Esha’s ankle. The hold was iron-like, and Esha emitted a loud, annoyed groan. With a sharp tug, she freed herself of the grasp, and challenged direct hazard by stepping right in front of Tai’s withering form. Tai could see the tip of Esha’s loafers even as saliva and blood dripped from her mouth.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule,” Esha solemny commented.  
“We’re of the same breed, _goat_ ,” the nickname caused Esha’s posture to cringe, and Tai knew it, because she could feel her staring daggers into her neck. Her voice was a perfectly synchronized cacophony of sounds, “Of the very same fine breed. We’re _both_ stubborn mules. And because of this, we’ll keep this charade up till the day we die.”  
Esha scoffed. She did not like the mocking tone in Tai’s voice - like she did not like anything about her, really. “If you avoided attacking me _every_ time you wanted to talk, perhaps we could have a _civil_ conversation–” a small pause. “–for once.”  
This time, Tai chuckled. Unashamedly. It sounded like doors banging open and close at incredibly fast speed.  
“Civil conversation – _you?_ You, offering to have a civil, adult conversation? Don’t _kid_ me, Esha! You must be joking.”  
Esha did not answer.  
“You talk about _civilization_ , my dear,” a gurgling interrupted her, but only briefly. Her talons began tracing the straight lines that patterned the ground beneath, admiring its artificial perfection. “When you were literally gnawing on bone marrow like some _scavenger_.”  
This time, Esha tilted her head to the side. From front, her arms went behind her back. Those pitch black orbits of hers would provide no insight to what she thought or felt.  
“And you’re a predator, you see - sometimes I feel like you’re _keeping_ yourself from doing your job.” the mantis persisted, her voice laced with faux-concern. “You know, I’d just like to _help you_ if you have any insecurities–”  
“No.”  
“–After all, it’s not easy to accept such a difficult–”  
“ _Enough._ ”  
“–Task, especially when you _enjoy_ it, and when you can’t help but–”  
“ _Shut up._ ”  
“–keep doing i–”  
“I said SHUT UP, _AT ONCE!_ ”

And a swing flew through the air, sending Tai flying into the wall they had been both standing in front of. A loud crashing noise followed impact, the heavy sound of bricks falling apart under Tai’s weight. This time, it was Esha’s turn to heave and growl in frustration. From self-controlled and composed, her posture turned wild, leg barely touching the ground after having delivered that impulsive, violent kick.  
No wailing, no pain. Tai languidly laid against the silhouette she stamped onto the brick wall, pieces of it falling off of her shoulders and red dust giving her dark suit a whole new shade. The New God’s face was still nothing more than a badly patched together DIY work - it resembled mangled paper infused with all sorts of glues and pink paints and colors - but Esha did not need to see her mouth nor her eyes to realize, after a single moment of silence, that all went according to Tai’s plans.  
Esha’s hands instantaneously curled into enraged fists.  
Why did their encounters always end up like this?  
Why had they always have to be such a _fucking waste of time?_  
Strained laughter shook Tai’s limp body, sending it into a fit that caused her to spaz her head left and right. It trembled _violently_ , enough to prompt Esha to step back. A part of her wanted to run away, unwilling to stay there and be subjected to Tai’s crazed, satisfied laughter - but another kept her still where she was standing, unable to move, becuse she knew fleeing would only prove the viscid insect’s words further correct.

Esha stood there, and was basked in humiliation. There was nothing else she could do. She had given Tai _exactly_ what she wanted.  
They were truly both as stubborn as mules.  
And for once, Esha did not have enough wit in herself to counter that statement.

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of drabbles featuring my OCs. All set in the same universe, but only the New Gods know each other. Might be further updated.


End file.
